


Two Vault Kids Walk Into A Bar

by The_Lowlifes_Back



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Romance, Short & Sweet, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 18:53:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12847359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lowlifes_Back/pseuds/The_Lowlifes_Back
Summary: ((Butch Deloria/F! Lone Wanderer))“…I can’t even think when you kiss me, Deloria…”He smiles against her mouth, heart leaping...“-Oh, good…cuz you think too damn much…”Her voice is lost, but clear in her reply. “…mn, we drink too much…”Then they drink in each other’s senses like thirsty, dying Wastelanders should.He’s vulnerable when he drinks.His voice touching love down, deep into her soul. “…yeah we do.”...Two Vault Kids walk into a bar.





	Two Vault Kids Walk Into A Bar

**Author's Note:**

> ((Fun fact about this story: I wrote most of this after drinking half a bottle of Tequila. I can remember thinking last night, "I want to see how I write while drunk". I wake up and I surprise myself, because it's not bad. I hope you all enjoy it!))
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing from Bethesda lol.

The thumping of his heart, filled the inside of his head. Her lips were soft, when they should have been chapped. How could her mouth be so soft? She walked in the desert for hours and yet, her lips were so wet. He was drowning in them; both her mouth and the soft feeling of her body against him.

Gentle. She was gentle and then she was just a little bit rougher, when his excitement got away from him. It was his fault. He tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth and her breath was like whiskey. He could get drunk off it and never stop, till he reached the bottom of the bottle.

She was an Oasis. Blonde hair, soft, like silk tangled in his fingers. Her hands are dipping into his jeans. Pale fingers, feminine and small, trace teasing patterns against smooth tan flesh. Her hands, his flesh, and their lips meeting, in a slow spiral into the point of no return.

There was no returning from this. They weren’t the same. Outside the vault, it wasn’t the same…she wasn’t. She was tough and she was cool. She was a woman and he was her only friend.

She was all he had too. She was more than he deserved. He felt like he didn’t deserve her. Young and angry, he’d tore her down. The Wasteland tore her down.

Yet here she lay beneath him, after she’d built herself back up.

She was stronger than him, but he was bigger than her. Her body was softer than his, but his heart was weak for her. He followed and she led him. He kissed her and she… the couch in their living room, is familiar as they touch a top it. She’s touching him and he’s getting flashes back to when they were kids.

He’s not a kid anymore. She brings out the best and the worst in him, like nobody else could. Naked and bare, his fingers search for her breasts, like a man grasps at straws. Desperately. Her shirt’s on the floor and both his jacket and his wits have joined it.

Her voice shocks down his spine and he can’t understand, why the blush hits him so hot at the sound. “…Oh, Butch, you don’t know how much I… _oh, Butch…_ ” it hits him so hard, all he can think of is sex and her sex and his sex. Sex. He wants to kiss her mouth and drown her in the word. His mouth catches this vulnerable little cry, which he gentles out of her with his hands.

Her breasts fit into his palms like stitches fit into seams. It’s needlepoint art. Its heat and skin, accurate and yet all over the place, with shaking hands. It’s that pounding of his heart in his ears, when he can’t breathe because of the blonde, whose breasts he cradles like precious gold. His voice is deeper than he expected, rougher. “…I can’t even breathe when you get like this…”

Her hands pop the button open on his jeans and his excitement pops right out of them too. Her voice is in his ear and somehow, she’s still the one on top, even though she’s under him. “All I can think of is how much I **missed** you…” He chokes on the pleasure, when her hand pets him through his boxers. “ **-Fuck** _please_ -“finishing her thought and stroking him into shaking fits. “…I can’t even **think** when you kiss me, Deloria…” He smiles against her mouth, heart leaping, hands still smoothing over her chest, hips provocative, as they meet her motions. “-Oh, good… **cuz you _think_ too damn much…”**

She steals his thoughts with a swipe of her thumb. His mind goes blank. His smile is consumed in the caress of her tongue. There’s stumbling and time travel involved, but somehow they’re both in her bed in a blink of an eye, this time. Dry humping, because he likes the way she moves when he plays with her.

Her pants are gone and so are their shoes. His erection straining through his boxers, his hands on her thighs, and hers over her head, makes quite a picture. He’s spreading her legs and she’s got that look to her, where love’s the only thought in her mind. He loved her mind, how it worked so fast and so calmly. He liked that he could scatter her brains and make her relax around him.

 It’s dirty and perfect. Her thighs shiver and her voice is lost, but clear. “…mn, we drink too much…” He laughs so genuinely it shocks them both. He’d been on his knees and admiring the view, till she made him laugh. Then he’s kissing her again, because he never knew, that kissing her would be the only thing he’d ever live for.

He loves when they drink too much. It’s wild, but they’re always on the same line of energy. She always acts the same and he always feels the same. She laughs and he loves her. They drown the sadness in the bottle.

Then they drink in each other’s senses like thirsty, dying Wastelanders should. Her skin that is so soft he could fall asleep against it each day. His teeth which drag over secret places, while his curious lips decipher the goosebumps he creates. With careful attention, he’s always paying attention to the way she’s moving for him.  His mouth is best at pleasing the girl, because they’ve always been good at talking.

Arguing and talking weren’t so different. Not anymore. It used to be different. They thought that hate is what drove them towards the other. They’d both thought that, till the world taught them better.

Love is sometimes ugly and clumsy.

He covers her completely, his fingers touching wet between her legs and his voice touching love down, deep into her soul. “…yeah we do.” His smile creeps off, when his thoughts focus on his hands. Her hands on his shoulders, while his fingers curve over her mons. Heat as soft as velvet, covers his fingers, while her voice leaves him aching. “-I love it when you curl them in… _mn…_ ” He’s vulnerable when he drinks.

He’s unable to keep a reign on what feelings tumble out. It’s alright though, because she’s just the same. He curls his fingers inside of her and watches her spine arch, her body like water flowing smoothly. His words leave him shy. “I love you when you talk like that…” He loves her no matter what the hell she’s doing.

Soon, her skin is a part of him and he’s moving inside her. She’s sighing like a steam break in a pipeline. “…don’t stop…” He’s moaning loudly without reservation. “Don’t let go…” The buzz in his head so loud, he can’t make out his own voice. Her fingers make out pressing patterns into his shoulders.

He thrusts and buries himself deep. Her body takes him in each time, with acceptance. Her arms hold him to her chest and when she finally cums, he leans back to watch her face. He leans forward to catch the sound and the way she kisses him, has him spilling into her glass. Sometimes he treats her like she’s made of glass.

He’s delicate with her. He’s open with her. He’s everything he wasn’t before and it shows. She’s combing her fingers through his hair. He loves the feeling.

He doesn’t even care that she’s messing it up. He just wants her to keep it up.  He wants the water in her Oasis all for himself. He lives for her waters of life. He… feels himself falling asleep.

They wake up to her bedroom ceiling. He’s on his back, so he sees it first. His head is pounding, but not because of his heart. She’s curled up on his chest, his arm tucking her against him. She groans playfully against his neck. “…Oh…damn it, Deloria…”

The hangover makes his a little surly. “Mmph, shh… go to sleep…” She’s never been one to sit still for long, so it’s a surprise to him to feel her settle. She cuddles closer, moaning lightly. “…Oh… never again…” He laughs despite himself. Turning his head, he places his chin atop her head.

That’s what they say every time they drink. That’s what she says whenever someone innocent dies on her watch. That’s what he says when he thinks about the vault, tempted to miss it. Never again. The two of them always repeat themselves though.

They’ve got problems that they drink away. Out in the Wastes, there’s always more. So when she settles in closer, he holds her tighter. He won’t let go. She won’t stop caring about him.

He finds her face with his fingers. Brushes them down her cheek with lazy affection. He takes a deep breath, kissing the top of her head. His voice softer than it ever used to be. “…You smell good…” He feels her palm caress down his ribs.

He loves those touches she gives, the careless ones. Has his heart swelling with warmth for the woman tangled up in him. She smiles against his neck and begins to drift off again. Her words a whiskey soaked lullaby. “…Love you… so much…” He turns, they lay on their sides facing one another.

He tucks her under his chin, drifting off into the land of dreams himself. He’s sincere each time he says it. “…I love you too…” Then they fall asleep, with the morning sun rising. They drink too much, but that’s alright with the way they live. Two Vault Kids, who made a name for themselves.

Then he grins in his sleep at the thought… Two Vault Kids walk into a bar…no.

Two Vault Dwellers walk out of the Vault door…and into the Wasteland.

Sounds like the beginning of a really terrible joke.

Or a really exciting life.

He falls asleep, unable to make up his mind on which, but it's starting to sound like both.

**((End))**

 


End file.
